Sommeiller
by civillove
Summary: The title is important; it's French and means: (v) to lie dormant. Think about it. an easy prompt: sleepy!blaine, Blaine falling asleep on Sebastian (Dalton boyfriends as usual) This once again took a turn I hadn't been expecting, hope it's okay. Also, this is sad; I'm warning you right now.


Sommeiller | 2,553 words

The title is important; it's French and means: (v) to lie dormant. Think about it.  
an easy prompt: sleepy!blaine, Blaine falling asleep on Sebastian (Dalton boyfriends as usual)  
This once again took a turn I hadn't been expecting, hope it's okay. Also, this is sad; I'm warning you right now.

"It's sticky." Blaine complains, pulling at the collar of his shirt as he boards a typical pat bus, moving quickly to find a seat.

Sebastian rolls his eyes, affectionate yet frustrated at the same time, as he follows his boyfriend onto the bus and grabs hold of one of the poles, letting Blaine take the last available seat and stands in front of him.

"You're a whiner." He tries to ignore the dopey smile the shorter fixes him with as he positions his legs between Blaine's. "Give yourself a minute to get used to the air-conditioning; you'll be complaining its cold in a few minutes."

Blaine scrunches his nose cutely and mutters about how he hates (loves) that Sebastian knows him so well as the taller leans into the dips and turns of the bus as he stands, sandwiched between people he'd never even speak to let alone acknowledge. He's disgusted that he's boarded public transportation in the middle of the summer—but then again, he almost always finds himself doing things he'd never thought he'd do just for Blaine.

He has no idea why they can't just drive—but the smaller in front of him, playing with the fabric on his shorts by his knee, insists it's easier this way, the bus route dumping everyone off at relatively the same place…and this way Sebastian doesn't have to pay so much for gas. Sebastian just makes a sound at that, because they both know he has more than enough money to pay for gas. But he lets Blaine make this decision for them, gives him the control because he needs it. In the long run, a tossup between a car and a bus doesn't really matter now, does it? No matter how many times Sebastian feels like he's gotten Hep C from sitting too long in one of the seats or curling his long fingers around a metal pole when he has to stand at least Blaine is making his own choices.

"We should go to Pittsburgh."

Sebastian's eyebrows scrunch together to the point where it probably looks like a caterpillar. "What?"

"I have an aunt who lives there…they have three more bridges than Venice, you know?"

Blaine says 446 bridges around the same time Sebastian utters, "I've been to Venice…I'm not impressed by a place that makes its own ketchup."

The curly haired boy smiles and looks down at his lap, his hands folding as his fingers lace together like the strings of a corset. "I love Andy Warhol."

"I know you do." Sebastian says softly, pausing as the bus stops to let another person on…because it's not like they're packed like a load of sardines as it is _anyways_.

Sebastian sighs as he feels someone pressing into him from behind, encroaching on his space, making his fingers curl around the pole he's holding onto. Usually he wouldn't mind the pressure against his back, especially if his boyfriend was the one doing it, but today it feels suffocating, right in all the wrong ways. He glances down at Blaine, who is looking up at him with a soft smile, his hand reaching out and cupping Sebastian's side, thumb tracing circles up and under his shirt and onto his sweaty skin. He's glad the air conditioning is on and he's glad the bus will make two more stops before they reach their destination.

"I've never been to Paris."

The bus stops once and some people get off, the space is more breathable and Sebastian shifts his legs apart and reaches his one hand down to run his fingers through Blaine's curls.

"Paris est agréable à l'automne (_Paris is nice in the Fall_)". Sebastian hums, his voice soft and melodic as his fingers scrub at the other's scalp.

Blaine closes his eyes, a crinkle appears between his eyebrows and he suddenly frowns, like an invisible string is pulling at the ends of his mouth. "No, we should go now."

Sebastian licks his lips, looks out the window above Blaine's head at the scenery passing by. "Summer a trop de tourists (_Summer has too many tourists_)".

He's quiet a moment; thoughtful. "I think Cooper would kill me if I went to Paris without him, anyways." He shrugs his one shoulder, pretends it doesn't bother him but Sebastian knows it does.

"Sa débile commerciale n'existe pas là-bas, au moins (_His moronic commercial doesn't exist there, at least_)." Something bubbles in Sebastian's stomach that feels a lot like pride when the edges of Blaine's mouth twitch into a smile and he dips his head, something he only does when he's trying to be modest.

That's one of the things Sebastian thinks he likes most about Blaine, the fact that he tries to be modest, the fact that he doesn't have to try very hard because he innately is, the fact that he's changed him to the point where he'll sit on a bus that smells like cologne mixed with moldy cheese for forty five minutes just to be close to the curly haired boy below him.

He's glad that he's changed for him…even though sometimes he likes to pretend like he hasn't.

The bus ride is slow today, because of traffic, still a half n hour left and one more stop. Blaine is already exhausted, not so much from what's he's said but because Sebastian can tell.

There are dark purple bags under the shorter's eyes, like someone had picked up a violet pastel and attempted to draw a story on his face with the color. He has stress marks engraved onto his forehead, his cheekbones, marring his strong jaw line. His hazel eyes are bloodshot, heavy, the color a pale honey, not lively, not something Sebastian likes to see.

He hasn't had a good night sleep in a while, at least the past week, tossing and turning, waking up soaked in sweat, white as a sheet. Sebastian's never felt so useless, doesn't know what to do when Blaine wakes up panting from a nightmare, a nightmare that doesn't end just because he's woken up, doesn't know what to do when he cries for hours in the wee hours of the morning, inconsolable, shaking, cold from the inside out.

Blaine has always been the talker in this relationship. He always knows just the right things to say and when to say them. Sebastian fucks up. He says the wrong shit at the wrong times. He stumbles over his sentences, means the wrong things, chokes on his tongue, wants to touch instead of speak. So that's what he does. That's what he knows how to do _correctly_. He touches Blaine, holds him close, traces his fingers along his spine and into the depths of his skin, spells out words in French because he can't say them in English.

"You tired, B?" Sebastian asks, looks up as the bus stops again.

Blaine shrugs, rubs a hand over his face and bites back a yawn. "Little. M'okay."

Some more people pile off the bus and Sebastian steals the opportunity when a seat opens up next to Blaine, nearly tackling over an old woman with a cane to sit next to his boyfriend—which Blaine isn't happy about, he can feel his eyes boring into the side of his head. The taller just shrugs as he wraps an arm around the other's shoulders, Blaine looking over at the woman and giving her a kind smile before he offers her his seat.

Blaine is so much nicer than him, so much kinder and soft spoken and gentle hearted. Would offer his seat to an old woman with a cane without a second thought while apologizing that his boyfriend took it from her. The old woman declines, much to Sebastian's relief and gives Blaine a warm smile…and smacks Sebastian's shins with her cane.

"Hag." He hisses and Blaine chuckles, covering his mouth with his hand.

Sebastian rubs at Blaine's shoulder and draws him closer when the bus begins to move, his boyfriend turning to angle his body so that his arm stretches across the other's midsection while he buries his face in the space between the taller's neck and shoulder.

"I've only been to New York once." Blaine says sleepily, his eyelashes tickling Sebastian's skin on his neck causing goosebumps to appear.

Sebastian shrugs. "It's overrated."

Blaine chuckles and then a tired sigh escapes, a yawn finally pressing its way past his lips. "Sacrilege." He teases.

He forces his eyes to look up at Sebastian and the taller simply responds for the moment by just grazing his lips over the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why you try and hide it from me when you're tired, don't fight it." He moves his one hand to cup Blaine's jaw and stroke his face; doesn't care that the bus is slightly crowded still, doesn't care that he can feel eyes on them. "And New York _is_ overrated."

"Because I'm always tired." He mumbles, leans up to kiss Sebastian's lower lip before sighing, eyes fluttering closed again. "You've only been there a few times."

It's Sebastian's turn to sigh, pulling his hand back as Blaine shifts closer and buries his face into his collar bone. "Take it from someone who knows."

The shorter hums and the movement of the bus lulls him to sleep for a few minutes, the gentle rocking motion reminding Sebastian of calm ocean waves. He looks out the front of the bus as the driver moves seamlessly through the traffic, the stops, and the swarms of people crossing the street. His one hand strokes Blaine's arm, cups his bicep, his thumb tracing the skin just below the sleeve of his polo while the other draws shapes into his boyfriend's knee, random letters, passages, prayers, quotes, French terms of endearment, _mon amour_.

He thinks they're going to make it there like this, Blaine asleep on his shoulder, when the bus driver honks the horn at a biker not staying on the path designated. He swears at whatever asshole is on the bicycle and whoever has a sick sense of humor up on cloud nine when Blaine jerks awake, his eyes blinking blearily as he tries to gauge his surroundings. Sebastian can feel his heart beat widely against his side, the shorter rubbing his face with his hand and making a small frustrated noise at being woken up.

Sebastian leans forward and kisses the tense lines on his face, making soft 'shh' noises when Blaine swallows thickly. "I know, sweetheart."

Blaine shakes his head and maybe the other is wrong, no…no he guesses he doesn't know. "I'm so tired."

His heart aches in his chest and he lifts his hand to ruffle Blaine's curls, scratch his scalp with his nails. A low noise sounds deep within the shorter's throat at the sensation, he appreciates the massage and it makes Sebastian smile.

"You can sleep tonight."

"You know I won't." Blaine counters, looking up at him with a smile he doesn't feel.

"I know you'll try."

And the silence greets them for the next five minutes; hugs them like old friends. They're almost there; two more red lights and a long bend that make the tires screech in an awful way.

"I want to go to the beach." Blaine says, plays with the buttons on Sebastian's shirt absentmindedly, fingers twisting them.

Sebastian's face twitches as his mouth quirks into a smile. "You hate the beach."

He scoffs. "I'm insulted, I love the beach."

He laughs, it feels good, his chest emulates warmth and he can feel it seep into his boyfriend's pores, some of the light returning to those hazel eyes. "The sand gets in everything," Sebastian strokes the soft skin of Blaine's inner thigh, just on the inside of the striped shorts he has on that stop right above his knees. "The sun is too hot, the jellyfish sting, the water is polluted…"

"The sounds of the waves are pretty." Blaine lifts his head, runs his nose along his boyfriend's. "I love building sandcastles and you look sexy in swim trunks."

Sebastian smiles slowly, winks at him. "Well, I can't argue with you there, Killer."

Blaine chuckles, leaning up to kiss him. Against his lips, "No, I didn't think you would, Bastian."

Sebastian nuzzles their noses together and smirks, kissing Blaine's forehead before the other's head falls to his shoulder again, too heavy to keep it up even though the ride is slowly coming to an end. The words are so soft at first that Sebastian can barely hear them over the roar of the bus's engine but when he leans closer to his boyfriend's mouth, he does hear them.

"I wish it was colder."

Sebastian swallows, squeezes Blaine so tight that he thinks he might hurt him but the shorter doesn't make a sound. "That wouldn't make this any easier."

Blaine picks at Sebastian's shirt, another yawn escaping, warm air rushing out of his lungs against his boyfriend's neck. "No one would pick a hot month to get cancer." He says softly, voice drowning against the hum of the engine and the loud pitter patter of Sebastian's heartbeat.

Sebastian closes his eyes; get what he means. July is such a pretty month, sure the blistering heat is a son of a bitch…but the trees are bright green, the pool water bright and reflecting, there's popsicles and the scent of barbeques, the Fourth emulates with firecrackers and American flags, the thickness of the heat during the night sprouts bonfires, smores, smoldering kisses, touches and promises. Colder months are different. The trees are bare, the flowers and grass and nature are covered up with frost, or snow or pelted and uprooted by wind and rain. The air is cold, frigid, bitter. Skin needs to be covered up to stay warm. There are holidays sure; Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, even New Years but those cold months are just wishing months; wishes into wells for warmer weather again. For rebirth, for sunshine. For warmth. For life.

Because everything in the colder months are dead.

And that, he thinks, is what Blaine is trying to say.

"No one would pick to get cancer, _period_, Blaine." Is all Sebastian says, his voice gruff, and it comes out rougher than he intends.

He gets silence back and he hates himself, just a little bit then, feels like he accidently destroyed that optimism in Blaine that he loves so much. He glances down at his boyfriend to apologize but closes his mouth when he sees that the other is asleep again, tucked into his arms, pretty eyelashes resting against flushed cheekbones. The bus stops and he hesitates, wants him to sleep as long as he can.

The bus driver makes a disgruntled noise, says this is the last stop before the route starts all over again. He can feel the mouth of the hospital's entrance bore holes into his back, making him feel like he's about to take Blaine into the belly of the beast. He shakes his head, hates this part, hates it more than he's ever hated anything. And that's saying something. He's got enough self-loathing to last him a lifetime sometimes.

Sebastian sighs and presses his fingers into Blaine's spine, slowly waking him up.

"Yeah, B, the beach actually sounds like a great idea right now."


End file.
